


an ocean's worth of longing

by ninata



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (which is hardly new. its all i write), Introspection, M/M, bonus mode, handjobs, lots of kisses, quick n dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: Oh, I don't know what love is, I never will / But when you're gone from me I know I'll still / Want you to be with me and wonder why / There never was a love for you and I -- Shuuichi finds himself drowning in what may be love.





	an ocean's worth of longing

**Author's Note:**

> minor warning for characterization spoilers, some hot takes on saihara's character, one kind of grisly metaphor and...that's about it. handies and kissing. ouma being a brat. enjoy?

Shuuichi is easily swept up. Finds his legs give easily, finds that he's apt to lose himself in the waves of Kokichi Ouma's affection. That can be bad and good. Today it's the latter.

Ouma's backed against the door of Shuuichi's room, his fingers laced behind his neck. The weight of his hands against the skin makes him jittery— he's careful in catching Ouma's lips with his own. His heartbeat stutters.

Ouma's tongue is deceptively soft. You'd think it'd be sharp with the way he talks. It runs perfectly against his, moves with the flow. A hand ducks under the torn hem of Ouma's shirt. He's nothing but bones, white sheets of skin pulled taut over his ribs. A bad halloween decoration, a scrawny ghost. Lots of words you can describe Ouma with, all of them hardly good enough. Shuuichi needs to think of better ones.

There's no hurry, no rush. Is that different than usual? Maybe. Shuuichi wonders if he's worth taking time on. It's easy for him to think no one would pay him any mind. Comfortable to say he's not worth anything.

It'd make sense, then, that being around Ouma would make him uncomfortable. But here he was, a knee between his legs, hands cautious on his hips. Ouma gasps, the thought lost between their lips. Shuuichi swallows it down. Even with this, it doesn't feel like they're close enough. Like they never could be. Maybe that's stupid to think.

"Saihara-chan," His words melt, sink to the bottom of Shuuichi's stomach. His heart beats against his throat. "Your bed, can we…"

"O-Of course!" Shuuichi goes to move back, but Ouma's hands prevent him. He blinks.

"Carry me?"

...Right. He sighs, hating the look of triumph that crosses Ouma's features as Shuuichi struggles to hoist him into his arms.

He's lucky the bed isn't too far away.

They collapse in a pile, Ouma taking advantage and pressing Shuuichi into his comforter, situating himself on his stomach. His teeth sink into Shuuichi's neck— Shuuichi squeaks, arching against him.

It's so much easier to think Ouma's using him. It's so much easier to pretend there's no love in this, that Ouma knowing which parts of Shuuichi's body make him squirm isn't anything more than for convenience's sake.

Thin, mousy hands pull his shirt open. Shuuichi watches Ouma's face, the smile splitting his face, eyes scanning the exposed skin hungrily. Despite the context, he looks handsome like that. The white light above them washes him out— makes the curves of his cheeks softer, the curve of his lips gentler.

Ouma's mouth is hot on his throat, sucking hard on the skin. Shuuichi chokes on his breath, drawing his legs closer towards him. Hands grope blindly before finding sanctuary on Ouma's lower back. Body rocks against him. He wants more, he always wants more.

Ouma's hand slides down his body to his crotch, trapped between their bodies. Squeezes him through his pants. Shuuichi can feel the chuckle that bubbles out of Ouma's mouth, dazed momentarily. For a moment, his vision's gone— Ouma mutters something, pulling down the zipper of his fly, pulling down his pants with his boxer briefs.

"Kiss me," Shuuichi says it without thinking, without holding himself back. Should he curse himself for that? Ouma's lips press firm on his, he's sinking underwater. There's a tug on his bottom lip, and his heart thumps hard in reply.

Ouma is the only source of air in the room. He wants to breathe him in, wants to cling onto him like he could keep him afloat. Wants to sink deep into the depths of this feeling, this thing that might be love.

It's scary. It's scary, thinking like this. Scary that someone may think highly of him, find him reliable. May not look at him as a nuisance. Hurts to think about. If he isn't a weak, pitiful person, then why do people treat him like one? Ouma looks at him like he's smart. Like he loves him. Shuuichi prefers to think he's lying, if only for his fragile sense of self. Was he always like this? He can't tell.

He manages to unbuckle Ouma's belt, repeating the motion Ouma did moments before until his clothes are out of the way, grabbing him by his bare skin and pulling him down with him. Both of their voices come out in a groan, fumbling to grab tighter, seek leverage. Ouma's frame trembles, his jaw slack, cheeks gaining spots of color.

Their movements become inelegant, more like two rutting animals in heat. The normal rush is back, too hasty, it isn't until the friction starts to be more painful than pleasurable that he looks to his nightstand for lotion. He's embarrassed that he keeps it there, but it's convenient when this is the most common kind of thing you do in your bed.

Skin slides easier after that. Shuuichi sighs, his hand wrapped around the two of them with Ouma's, both of them struggling to move in tandem. Shuuichi leans til his lips are against Ouma's ear, gently taking the lobe between his teeth. Ouma's body jerks, a barely suppressed moan.

They keep at this, exploiting weak points as usual. It's all they can do to each other. Their hips grind together, the tremor in Ouma's thighs getting stronger and stronger. Nails digging into skin and dragging, red lines in Ouma's pale flesh. "Ah— _ Ah _ —" They're a tangled knot, straining to get closer, moving in feverish lust, faster, harder. Shuuichi forgets to breathe, forgets himself. For a second, he forgets he's afraid of this love, afraid of what getting closer has to mean. That he'll have to face himself and admit he's not as horrible as he pretends he is, that he has no excuse to wallow in misery all the time. That he's not any better than Ouma, that he's not any worse than the rest of them, that everything's in grey shades that range from white to black. Ouma is a bright purple dot in all of it, colorful, warm in his arms. His metaphors are blending together. His head is radio static.

When he comes, his thoughts finally connect back together. He relaxes against his sheets, trying to catch his breath again. The fear, the indecision. He lets go of Ouma.

He stares at the ceiling, wondering why it was him. If what Ouma saw in Shuuichi was right, if he needed to stop putting himself down and needed to start being responsible. Accept what's happened. Be himself. Move on.

He can't wear the hat forever. Can't hide behind a timid facade forever. Can't keep running when people rely on him and can't keep basing his friendships around people who underestimate him and baby him.

Right? Or…

Maybe he's thinking too much.

He can feel Ouma's heartbeat.

Ouma pushes himself up, looking down at Shuuichi from above. Violet eyes, something intelligent shining behind them. His hair hangs around him like wings, like feathers. Is he cherubic, then? His face has righted itself, not a trace of his previous candid expressions. Put together expertly yet again. They look at each other for what feels like seconds or hours.

Shuuichi doesn't know what possesses him, but he carefully pulls him back down. Ouma's elbows bend as his frame folds in on itself until it fits in Shuuichi's arms perfectly again. A kiss, slow and soft.

Uncomfortable, comfortable. He's afraid, but he'd spend eternities like this, wrapped in his embrace. Wading through lies, washing up on empty shores, left wanting. Even if it ends terribly, even if nothing goes right, he wants to try.

If he holds him close, he can't run away. Neither of them can. If he spears both of them with the double edged sword, they can bleed out together.

What a strange thought, he thinks.

They lie together for hours, meaningless conversation eventually filling the air.

When Shuuichi drifts off to sleep, he dreams of Ouma's warmth, a sure truth.

**Author's Note:**

> not much to say about this one! i felt indignant about everyone saying "oh ouma's such a mess but saihara isn't!" you fool. they both suck.   
> jokes aside, i hope this reads okay. maybe i went too purple. it's always a pleasure to write them, i'm hoping that............i can keep writing more. i have a few other things in progress but i don't know what'll get done or the if/whens of it so. heh...heh... (wipes sweat)  
> i should be doing my homework. i hate college


End file.
